Pages

Tuesday, February 16, 2021

poem - the snake


by horace p sternwall



i was born by the river in a little shack
i wanted to conquer the world but couldn’t get on track
i found a bag of gold in a hole out back
and got a ride to town from a guy named mack

he left me at the station at fifth and main
mixed emotions swirled around in my brain
the feelings i had were hard to explain
but with the bag of gold i got on the train

ckickety clickety clickety clack
no one suspected what i had in my sack
i bought a ticket for the very last stop
at the stroke of midnight off the train i did hop

the moon looked down with a wistful frown
i put my bag on my shoulder and entered the town
the streets were filled with men with guns
but i did not know anyone

i was accosted by the famous jack slade
i looked in his face and was not afraid
you look like a tenderfoot, he said
give me that bag or i will shoot you dead

i handed it over without a qualm
knowing i would never come to harm
slade opened the bag and a snake popped out
he had no time to even shout

the snake hardly made a sound
and slade fell to the ground
the rounders witnessing the scene
turned various shades of green

the hour has come at last
i heard black dan riley gasp
the owlhoots all drifted away
and night slowly turned to day

the end is quickly told
the snake did not turn back to gold
i was left with no cards up my sleeve
and a story no one will believe

stranger, take pity on me
all i wanted was to be free
i grasped at the ghost of a chance
but only devils can dance



No comments: